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No matter how hard she tried, Taly couldn’t keep her hands from shaking as she hit the bottom of the stairs, making her way towards the throne room.

This was it.

Today was the day she might finally earn her freedom.

She had come so far since that first lesson when she had so badly botched her first spell. She had learned to control her aether, memorized enough enchantments to turn her brain to jelly. She had covered nearly two decades of practical training in one grueling hell of a year, and this one trial—whatever it may be—was the only thing standing between her and home.

Breathe, she told herself.Just breathe.The Queen had insisted that she complete this test in full armor, and the set of enchanted leathers she had found waiting for her in her closet fit like a glove—tight but comfortable enough that she could still move.

As to why the Queen wanted her dressed and ready for battle… well, she was still trying very hard not to think too hard about what that might mean. Or how much it was going to hurt.

Taly finally came to the main hall, and the fairies peeked from behind the rows of columns flanking each side, darting out of sight as she approached. Their voices were hushed, their light soft and subdued.

They were nervous.

Fuck. Just what the hell did Azura have planned?

The doors to the throne room loomed ahead, and Taly threw her body against them, heaving until the heavy slabs of gold and pearl and polished wood began to move.

“I’m here!” she announced, trying to muster some swagger. “So let’s—”

The words abruptly died on her tongue. The world bled away.

She blinked. But the room didn’t change.

There was bloodeverywhere. Smeared across the tile, even splattered on the steps leading up to the throne. It oozed and eddied. Some of it had already started to dry, fading from red to black.

And in the middle of the room, surrounded by all that blood, stood a man. He looked different than she remembered. His hair was shorter, and his beard was gone. But the eyes, the thick cords of muscle, the ruddy skin—

Taly’s eyes slid to the floor, and though something inside her tugged her forward, some small, still-sane part of her kept her feet firmly planted, not wanting to get too close to that man with the knife that still shone with the sickly sheen of poison.

Something was cracking inside of her, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t look away from the second figure in the room. The man with dark hair and the symbol for House Ghislain stamped on his chest. The man lying on the floor, lifeless and pale. He couldn’t be here. Not like this.

She couldn’t breathe. Not as an aching, ageless void quietly slashed her open, pulling her apart seam by seam. Dazed, she placed a hand to her heart, surprised to find smooth armor rather than shredded sinew and flesh.

She had tried so hard to find her way back to him, but now, here he was. Broken and bleeding. Unmoving as the glint of poison mixed with the steady stream of blood oozing out of wounds that refused to heal.

Skye. Her Em that she had dreamed about countless times, even her magic responding to the visceral need to keep him alive. To keep him safe.

But here he was now. Dead.

One of those nightmares had finally come true.

The man with the yellow eyes was looking at her now, but he didn’t advance. Instead, his gaze flicked to the fairies that gathered behind her, assessing.

“Well, hello there, little mage.” That voice was as thick and oily as she remembered. “I was wondering if I was going to get to see you again.”

Taly slowly lifted her eyes. Away from the blood. Away from Skye. “Vaughn,” she said a bit breathlessly, still trying to figure out just how the world was supposed to fit together now.

“And you’re Taly, yes?” Vaughn chuckled darkly. “I’ve been doing some research on you, as well. Found this one.” He kicked at Skye’s motionless body. “He was quite fond of you, you know. Even I was surprised at what he was willing to do just to get here.”

Was. That word hit her as surely as any blow. Skye had become awas—something to be spoken of and remembered fondly.

Vaughn shifted, taking a cautious step around Skye’s body. Her eyes fixed on the dagger in his hand, still dripping with blood.

Her dagger. Vaughn had usedherdagger… the dagger Skye had made for her…

That tear ripped open, every piece of her having to shift to make room as that hole that used to be her heart began to widen and expand. In an instant, all of her doubt, all of her hesitation dissolved, leaving only a depthless ocean of white-hot rage to fill the empty space.